


Five days in the life of Metze's couch

by penguin_attie



Category: Football - Fandom
Genre: Anthropomorphism - Freefom, Crack, M/M, Metzelly, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-19
Updated: 2008-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-02 00:12:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguin_attie/pseuds/penguin_attie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life as Christoph Metzelder's couch is pretty boring. Unless Sebastian Kehl happens to stop by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five days in the life of Metze's couch

**Author's Note:**

> For everyone who is feeling a bit down. Have some mindless fluff! :)

**1\. The first time it met him.**

It had set out to be just another day in the life of a musty old Ikea couch stuck in an attic. Doze away the day, keep the mice from stealing its stuffing, and maybe it could convince Bjørn, the old chair, to share another of its many stories from its youth. Bjørn had been a kitchen chair for the previous inhabitants, a young couple with a little girl. He'd been a philosopher and she was a chemist, and the rows they had about how often she was allowed to blow things up in front of their daughter were legendary. These stories always made the couch's day, if not the week.

But its day got thrown upside down when the door burst open and a young boy of about fifteen years stormed into the attic. Enraged, he flung the door closed behind him and kicked the first thing he could reach - Bjørn, the old chair. And hit its bad leg, too. The poor dear had already been wobbly on its feet, and didn't have much resistance to oppose youthful impetuousness. Sadly, there was no chance the broken leg would ever be cured at its age. The couch was furious at first. Bjørn had never hurt anyone, it had worked hard at making people comfortable around the kitchen table all its life, and now here came some intruder barging in and robbing it of its deserved quiet retirement! (And the couch's evening entertainment.) But Bjørn calmed it down, saying it didn't really need its leg any more and it didn't hurt that much anyway. The couch wasn't convinced (mostly because it could hear the way the old chair creaked in pain) and insisted that it was pure malice to have a go at the elderly like that when it could have taken the blows just as well and not suffered as dire consequences. But when the boy sank down on it and started sobbing, hiding his face in his hands, it took pity and tried to offer as much comfort as it could. It wasn't much, but it seemed to work. The sobbing subsided, and he leaned back into the couch's cushions. He remained lying there for a while, absent-mindedly stroking the dusty back.

The attic soon became Christoph's secret hiding-place when he didn't feel like facing the world outside.

 

**2\. The day it learned Christoph's name.**

He'd shown up in the attic for barely three seconds, the time to throw the skylight wide open and run out again. The couch had worried a little, not about his sanity (that was a lost cause anyway), but because it looked like rain, and although it could probably do with a washing, more moulding wasn't a very enticing prospect. And of course it promptly started to rain ten minutes later.

But the couch didn't have to worry for long. Soon enough, it could hear laughter resounding... from the roof?! And indeed, there came a pair of feet dangling in through the window, and shortly after, the boy landed somewhere between Samsonite the suitcase and a sack of old clothes that was so moth-infested none of the other inhabitants ever spoke to it.

The couch waited for the cloud of dust to settle (mostly on his wet t-shirt) and was about to rustle its cushions disapprovingly at him when it almost dropped them in shock: a head stuck in through the skylight!

"Chris? You all right?" called the strange boy, laughing. Chris! Short for Christoph, presumably. So that was the name of the young boy that had made himself at home in its attic over the last few months!

"Fine, Flo. Come on down!"

The other boy - Flo - busied himself with getting down to the floor without sustaining major injuries while Christoph took off his shirt and tried to dry his hair with it - without much success, as it was just as drenched as his hair.

Flo landed on the floor behind him and grinned up at Christoph, exhilarated and slightly out of breath. "That was brilliant! Did you feel that gust of wind? I swear, it nearly threw me off!"

Christoph grinned back at him. "And left me up there to take the blame when you sit in a wheelchair for the rest of your life? Egoistic bastard!"

"Oh please, you know I wouldn't leave you. I'd make sure to chuck you down first!"

The couch was having trouble following their exchange. It had been years since it'd heard more than just the dull murmur filtering through the floor. It had almost forgotten what it was like listening to an actual conversation, to hear what people were thinking. This would certainly give the attic's inhabitants something to talk about for months, if not years! (Hey, a couch's life is _boring_.)

"The way you were clinging to me, I'm inclined to believe you."

Flo blushed a little and tugged at his shirt evasively. "Don't you have anything dry?"

Christoph cast a quick glance around the room. "Nah. Only this" he said, fishing a dirty old towel out from behind the couch.

The couch could understand the disgusted look Flo threw at the towel very well. It had to _live_ with that thing behind its back for the last two months!

"God, that's _vile_. What did you do with it?"

Christoph smirked. "Wipe myself off after wanking."

This time the blush on Flo's face was more pronounced. But when Christoph threw the towel his way, he ducked out of the way quickly. "Oh, now you so have it coming!"

He launched himself at Christoph, and the couch stiffened in anticipation of a scuffle. But to its surprise, Flo kissed him instead. Not that it made much of a difference, because the momentum had them stumbling over a box of children's toys and knocking over a broken lamp anyway, before landing on the couch in a heap of tangled limbs, a cloud of dust rising. Eventually, the two boys had to break apart to sneeze at each other simultaneously.

"You told me this place was great. So far, I got rained on, almost blown from the roof, and covered in dust. I'm not impressed." Flo tried not to let the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth ruin his impassive face.

"Well, if you'd hurried up a little we would've been here before the rain started. Besides, this couch is very springy."

Flo bounced on it a little. "True."

The couch was very chuffed to be so appreciated, and made an effort to be even more comfortable.

"Also, hasn't anyone ever taught you that you're not supposed to stay in wet clothes?" Christoph said, and promptly set to removing them, which Flo seemed to appreciate a lot - at least judging by the shiver that the couch could feel running down his back. Although that might just have been the cold.

But he certainly appreciated it when Christoph pushed him down and started crawling over him, a smoldering look in his eyes.

 

**3\. The day Christoph moved house.**

Christoph had stopped coming to the attic a few years ago, so when a well-built and extremely handsome young gentleman entered the attic with a nostalgic expression on his face and Mrs Metzelder in tow, the couch did a double-take. Had it really been that long? It had - Christoph would have to be about twenty by now, of course he wouldn't be the gangly youth any more that he'd been at fifteen.

"That's the couch I mean, ma. You won't mind me taking it, will you?"

Christoph's mother eyed the couch suspiciously. "Of course not, Chris, but are you really sure about this? I mean, it's been standing around here in the attic ever since... oh, you must've been twelve, remember when I got that new job and we bought new furniture from the bonus? Anyway, do you really think it'll go with your new apartment? It's hardly the de luxe fittings you'd expect from football's latest shooting star, right?"

Christoph had to chuckle at that. "Not quite. It's from Ikea. And it's..." - he squinted at the covering - "pink and green striped? Ma, what were you thinking? Anyway, I'll have it cleaned and given a new covering first, and then it won't stand out so much. But it's really comfortable, and much better for lazing in front of the telly than this designer stuff with the weird edges."

"Well, if you're sure about it. You can borrow your father's van to drive it to the dry-cleaner's, I suppose..." And with that, Mrs Metzelder turned to the door again. She was about to leave when she spotted something in a corner. "Oh look, Chris! It's your first pair of football boots! Gosh, look at the size of them, I can hardly believe that it's already been fifteen years! How much you've grown since then!"

Apparently, despite being proclaimed a prospective football god and the hot new thing to watch out for, Christoph was still very human and thus not exempt of the embarrassment and exasperation that everyone is subject to when parents or elderly relatives go into raptures over fond childhood memorabilia. "Yes, ma. It happens to people, growing up. Now can we please get a move on? I haven't got all day, you know, what with being football's much-in-demand - not to mention handsome - new talent and stuff..."

His mother put the shoes aside and beamed at him. "And we're all very proud of you. Now don't let that head of yours get too big, or I'll sell all of your embarrassing childhood moments to BILD."

Christoph laughed along with her, but as he left the room, the couch couldn't help but think that he paled slightly at her words.

 

**4\. When Sebastian Kehl came over for the first time to have a look at Christoph's apartment.**

"...there's the kitchen... and here's the living room." Christoph held the door open, and the young man - who was apparently called "Kehli", or at least that's what the couch had heard Christoph call him while they were in the hall - entered and looked around curiously.

"Not bad. Did you-" he faltered when his gaze fell on the couch, his face contorting into an expression of bemused amazement, halfway between a grin and a frown. "Metze, what the hell is this... pink and green striped... _thing_?"

"Oh, the white covering is in the wash. But don't judge the furniture by it's cover, wait until you've lazed around on it for a while. It's really quite comfortable, you'll love it!"

The couch glowed with pride at Christoph's words and the jealous glares the other couch and the armchair sent its way. It didn't really get along with the designer furniture, because they were too snobby to actually make an effort to make people comfortable. They looked down on the couch for stooping so low. Of course no one liked to sit on such stiff furniture, but that was quite beyond them, so they invented extravagant conspiracy theories all the while pointedly ignoring the shabby but popular little Ikea couch.

The television, however, despite being quite the high-end model, had no such qualms and had, in fact, taken somewhat of a shine to the couch. It winked its standby light at it. The couch curved its upholstery in a grin.

"If I didn't know better, I'd swear your couch was looking smug" remarked Sebastian. The couch looked up in amazement. Furniture conversations were usually quite beyond humans. Could this one really have noticed something?

"Yeah sure, and the armchair is jealous. All my furniture is actually engaged in a full-blown war for my attentions." Christoph was so busy laughing that he missed the mischievous glint in Sebastian's eyes, the one that said that he was up to something.

"Metze, your couch is staring at my ass!" he suddenly exclaimed later that day. _Caught!_ The couch creaked in embarrassment.

 

**5\. The day it got a name.**

Sebastian had come over to watch a movie, and the two were lying on opposite ends of the couch, legs intertwined in the middle. The couch had anticipated a cozy evening - if only Christoph's choice of movie had suited Sebastian. However, while the former was positively fascinated, the latter had been whining in boredom for the last ten minutes. And judging by the way the couch could feel his leg twitching, Christoph's patience was running short.

"Kehli, if you don't shut up now, I'll stuff a cushion in your face!"

"But- just look at it! These two have been standing around in the same place for - _mmpf!_" He was rudely interrupted by a pillow as Christoph cashed in on his threat, pouncing on an unprepared Sebastian. The latter flailed around wildly, but didn't succeed in dislocating the pillow on his face, or indeed, the Christoph on his stomach. Thus he signaled defeat.

"Ok-" he had to stop and gasp for air when Christoph finally relented. "Okay, I'll keep my mouth shut, I promise."

"Good." Christoph smiled innocently and settled back into his previous position, turning his attention once again to the movie. Weird - the couch would've thought that he'd know better. _It_ certainly knew better - a mute Kehli did not mean a harmless Kehli. And said not-so-harmless Kehli had no intentions of spending the rest of the evening sulking in a corner. The couch could practically _see_ him scheming. It could also feel the foot slowly inching its way up Metze's leg, although Christoph appeared not to notice. He steadfastly refused to acknowledge its presence for the next few minutes, but his ramrod-straight back and the way his buttocks kept clenching belied his growing tension.

And then suddenly he snapped. Abandoned all pretense and just threw himself on Basti.

"Finally," Basti breathed when Christoph relented in his onslaught. A growled "shut up" was all he got in response.

Sebastian certainly had very talented feet, the couch mused. He also had a very nice ass that was currently grinding into its upholstery. It felt good. The couch wiggled back experimentally. Kehli moaned and pressed himself into Christoph, who ground back, further burying Kehli's ass in its folds. Well, that was encouraging. It could see this was going to be _fun_.

-*-

_  
"I like your couch."_

_"Ngurgh." Christoph was way too content to be lying there in the afterglow to form any coherent sentence. So he just tightened his arm around Kehli's waist in a proprietary manner. Sebastian smiled._

_"I was thinking... now that we've christened your couch, it ought to have a name."_

_" 'Couch'?" Christoph was evidently not too well disposed towards brain activity right now. "You're weird, Kehli" he murmured sleepily._

_Sebastian grinned. "And you love me for it. How about Walter?"_

_That woke Christoph up. "Oh no. You are _not_ going to name my couch Walter. Besides, it's an IKEA couch, it needs a Swedish name."_

_Sebastian traced patterns on Christophs chest thoughtfully."Hm... Freddie? Or how about Olof?"_

_"Kehli! I'm not going to name my couch after anyone in the Swedish team. I could never look them in the eye again!"_

_"Too bad. Imagine their faces if they found out! Anyway, do you know any other Swedish names?"_

_"Hmm." Christoph sank into thought, absent-mindedly running his fingers along Sebastian's side. "Hedlund!"_

_"Is that Swedish?"_

_"No clue. But it sounds Swedish, so what the hell."_

_Sebastian mulled it over. "Sounds good." He poked the armrest. "What do you think?"  
_

The couch grinned. _Perfect._


End file.
